


All About The Game (And How You Play It)

by uistic



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Multi, PWP, Shameless Smut, Sub Seth, Top Dean, Top Roman, Wax Play, post Shield breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uistic/pseuds/uistic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What the fuck, Ambrose?" Seth barges through the door, phone and keycard in hand, irate and gorgeous and still in his ring gear, like the Authority’s so damn busy with their plotting and scheming and practicing their evil laugh or whatever shit they do behind closed doors that they can't even give their golden boy five minutes to shower and change. "What the hell was that? You can’t send a text like normal people?"</p><p>'That' had been Dean getting Seth in a submission hold with ten minutes left of the match and telling him, in detail, what he and Roman had planned for him tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All About The Game (And How You Play It)

"What the fuck, Ambrose?" Seth barges through the door, phone and keycard in hand, irate and gorgeous and still in his ring gear, like the Authority’s so damn busy with their plotting and scheming and practicing their evil laugh or whatever shit they do behind closed doors that they can't even give their golden boy five minutes to shower and change. "What the hell was that? You can’t send a text like normal people?"

'That' had been Dean getting Seth in a submission hold with ten minutes left of the match and telling him, in detail, what he and Roman had planned for him tonight.

Dean tosses aside the remote and sits up. "You're here, aren't you?"

"You're such a son of a-" Seth snarls, before Roman places a hand on his neck and he swallows, curse dying on his lips.

”Enough of that." Roman's voice is a low rumble. "Are you gonna be good for us?” 

Seth's answer is there in his gritted teeth and sullen silence. Dean and Roman exchange a look over his shoulder.

”I don’t think he is.” Dean throws his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up. "I think we’re gonna have to make him."

Roman makes a sound of agreement and strokes his thumb along the side of Seth’s neck. It makes Seth shiver. Dean's never been particularly voyeuristic, but there’s something about Roman and Seth together that just gets to him. Seth opens his mouth to speak and at the little intake of breath Roman tightens his grip around Seth’s neck.

”You don’t get to talk. That’s not what you’re here for."

Seth chokes off with a noise that’s half protest, half acquiescence, and who'd have guessed that was all it took to shut Seth up? Although you'd probably have to be Roman Reigns to pull it off. It’s borderline uncanny, the way Roman handles Seth, somehow makes the brattiest, mouthiest, most self-absorbed man Dean's ever fucked _want_ to be good.

There’s a mixture wariness and hunger in Seth’s expression as he watches Dean cross the floor. He flinches when Dean raises a hand to brush the blonde strands of hair out of his face and Dean feels his body respond. He likes Seth anxious. Wouldn’t want him to think they’re all good, just because they’re fucking again. Every touch and word and gesture gets amplified through Seth's paranoia, and Dean can’t believe it took him this long to notice that Seth likes a little edge of fear to get him off. Which, in retrospective, of course he does. Why else would someone like him ever go for someone like Dean?

”All right, pretty boy.” Dean plants a hand on Seth’s shoulder. ”Get down. You're in my way."

Because Seth wouldn't be Seth if he didn't push back, he mouths a silent "fuck you" before going to his knees, giving Dean the space he needs to pull Roman in for a kiss. Roman’s a good kisser, gentle, generous, kissing Dean like he’s something precious, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be and no one else he’d rather do, despite the stupidly beautiful, stubbornly cranky man kneeling impatiently at their feet.

It's less than fifteen seconds before Seth shifts and leans in, nuzzling Roman's thigh. It’s like he can't stand to not be the centre of attention even for a moment. If it were Dean, he'd kick him for it, but Roman’s got a soft streak a mile wide and cuddling's his god damned kryptonite. Sure enough, he rewards Seth's poor behavior by breaking the kiss and ruffling his hair.

"C'mon, Ro," Dean grumbles. "Bitch gotta learn to wait his turn."

"He'll get to wait plenty, don't worry." Roman crouches down, cups Seth's jaw and looks him straight in the eyes. "All right, sweetheart. Check in-time. Are you injured? Sore? Anything we ought to know?"

 _Sweetheart_. It kills Dean, all those endearments. Dean wields them like weapons, but there's no trace of sarcasm in Roman's voice. He touches Seth gently, like he never stopped loving him, like it's more than just a convenient way to blow off steam.

Which, yeah. Maybe it is. But it slays him that Roman doesn’t even try to hide it. Give Seth a finger and he’ll take the whole fucking house and burn everything in it just to prove that he can. Man's got an inferiority complex from here to Australia and he tends to take a scorched Earth approach to making sure that no one will ever overlook him.

Seth hesitates, then shakes his head.

"You sure? You took some pretty nasty bumps out there."

Roman says it like it wasn't Dean who gave him those bumps, like Roman wasn’t there to congratulate him with high fives afterwards. Dean snorts and Seth glares at him like he's about to bite.

"Hey." Roman snaps his fingers in front of Seth’s face. "Cut the crap. You look at me when I'm talking to you."

A series of conflicting emotions pass over Seth's face before he grinds his teeth together and stares at Roman, all silent defiance.

"That's how it's gonna be, huh?" Roman waits a moment, then sighs. "All right. I'm trusting you on this, don't make me regret it."

There's something about Seth's guilty cringe-and-swallow that pisses Dean off. Anxiety is nice, anger is fun, but remorse? Fuck that. Seth knew what he was doing when he picked up that chair. There is no way he gets to come crawling back feeling sorry about it, like forgiveness is a thing that happens. He kicks Seth's leg. "Get up, princess. This is boring, I want to hit something."

Roman gives him an exasperated look, but Dean catches him hiding a smile as he turns away to set everything up. There’s worry in Seth’s eyes when he realizes big brother Roman isn't going to protect him and he's up on his feet in a second. He's pretty like that, wide-eyed and unsure if they're going to fuck or fight and which he'd actually prefer.

Dean backhands him across the face, then grabs his hair and pulls him in for a violent kiss. Seth's all resistance until he's not, like he needs a second to remember that, no, wait, he actually likes this. Wants this. When Dean ends the kiss, Seth pulls him right back, doing things with his tongue that probably ought to be illegal. Dean's not entirely sure which one of them maneuvers them to the bed, but when Seth shoves him back he goes down willingly. Unlike a certain two-faced little weasel, Dean knows what he wants and sees no reason to be coy about it. Getting on his back so Seth can crawl up and straddle his waist? Yeah, he can do that.

It's weird, though, making out with a Seth who is quiet. Dean almost misses the customary insults and taunts, the way Seth starts out righteously furious and then loses his conviction as they go, the thrill when his "fuck you, Ambrose" starts to sound less like an insult and more like a plea. 

Seth's kisses are all hunger and bite. He slips his hands under Dean’s t-shirt, nails scorching as they claw at Dean’s back. There’s a familiar urgency to Seth, like he needs to have everything now because he can’t trust it to last beyond the moment. He tears at Dean's clothes as if they're offending him. Dean pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside before he flips them both over, pins Seth's wrists and plants a trail of kisses all along the edge of his jaw, neck and shoulder. Seth squirms under him. He tries to wedge his leg between Dean's thighs, but Dean’s determined to cover every inch of his skin in kisses before doing anything else. If Seth gets to set the pace, this will be a two minute ride. Seth groans in frustration but he's not wrenching his hands free, so his suffering can't be that bad.

The bed shifts as Roman joins them and places a warm hand on Dean’s back, soothing the scratches left by Seth.

"Hey. Having fun?"

Dean bites Seth’s chest, causing a white knuckled hiss, then turns his head and grins at Roman. ”Yup. Not so much that I can’t take a break, though.” He releases Seth and sits up, ignoring the sounds of protest. "You ready?"

"Whenever you are."

Roman’s laid out everything he needs on the other bed. Lengths and lengths of hemp rope, a pair of scissors, a blindfold. A couple of candles are burning on the windowsill, well out of reach. They’ve been on the road for more than forty days, which means that Roman’s been carting this around from city to city and hotel to hotel, patiently waiting for an opportunity to play. It's not really Dean's thing, ropes and shit, but he’s looking forward to seeing it happen. Even more when Seth follows his line of gaze and his eyes widen.

The bed dips when Roman gets off and crosses the room to pick up a length of rope. Seth follows his every move, transfixed. It makes Dean snort. He climbs off Seth and gives him a shove. "C'mon, princess. Ro's gonna treat you better than you fucking deserve, so you'd better show him you're grateful."

Seth rolls his eyes but still slides down from the bed, smooth as a cat. If anyone had asked a couple of years ago, Dean would have said that arrogance makes for an awful trait in a bottom. Then he met Seth, who brings all his bristling pride into bed with him, obeys out of spite, and treats orders like expectations he intends to blow out of the water.

Dean has seen a lot of men crawl but not one of them moved like Seth. In the ring it's a fast, frantic scramble, but here, when he's aiming to impress, it's a fucking work of art, all long sleek lines, grace and poise and power and so much condescension that Dean can’t help but think that Seth's a little confused as to what they're doing here. He crawls across the floor, dips down, and kisses Roman's bare feet, long hair curtaining his face.

That was not what Dean had in mind, and going by Roman's raised eyebrows, he's not alone in his surprise. The sight of it makes Dean's breath catch. Roman growls deep in his throat and Dean doesn’t have to see Seth's face to know that he's smirking, the smug little bastard.

Then Roman gasps, fists clenching, and Dean can only assume that Seth has put his tongue to work. The temperature in the room seems to climb by several degrees and Dean shifts, resisting the urge to touch his dick. He's never had a thing for this and it's not gonna turn into a thing now, regardless of how hot Seth looks on his hands and knees, head dipped low, ass high, and the way Roman's biting back gasps.

"All right." Roman’s voice is rough as he pushes Seth away with his foot. "Get up. I've plans for you."

While Roman directs Seth over where he wants him, Dean grabs a beer and cracks it open, settling back on the bed to watch.

Roman pulls the length of rope through his hands, coiling it in loose loops. Meanwhile, Seth has pulled off his boots and are shimmying out of his tight latex pants. He notices Dean looking and fumbles. After that, he studiously ignores Dean until he's naked and empty-handed on the middle of the floor with nothing left to keep him busy. Only then does he look up again.

Dean makes a point of leering at him, trying to make him blush. But Seth's had a chance to get his bearings and meets Dean's gaze calmly, annoyingly aware of how good be looks. Dean raises the can in a salute.

"You're pretty smart for a fuckup," he says, "so you've probably figured out what's going on. But in case you haven't, I'll spell it out for you. Roman’s going to tie you up and blindfold you. And when you can’t move, can't fight, can't run, can't see, then you and I are gonna have some fun."

There's this thing Seth does when he's uncertain and trying to hide it, where he raises his chin just a little and refuses to look away.

"Oh, you like that, do you? Bet you didn't tell anyone you came here. Bet they wouldn't even know where to start looking if you didn't come back ."

Of course he didn't. Not only is he a sneak and a lying liar who lies, he'd probably die before letting mom and dad know who he's fucking on the side. Probably gets off on the secrecy.

Seth admits to nothing, but his little side-eye is as good as any answer. He really ought to work on his tells. Or maybe he's so used to selling in the ring that he forgets to quit outside of it.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought. You're fucking stupid when you think with your dick. You think you’re safe just because Roman’s here to look out for you? He may not be a sadistic motherfucker like me, but I never hit him in the back with a steel chair. So if I wanted to really mess you up tonight, send you back to mom and dad so wrecked you couldn't even stand up, whose side do you think he'd take?"

Seth glances towards Roman, who meets his gaze dead on. "Man's got a point. Better not piss him off, Seth."

Roman walks around Seth, carefully lifts Seth's hair to the side and presses a kiss to his naked shoulder. He runs his hands down Seth's arms, positioning them loosely at his sides and leans in and murmurs something in his ear. Taking a length of rope, he runs it through his hands until he finds the centre, then hangs it around Seth’s neck like a benediction. Seth exhales and closes his eyes. With gentle, steady hands, Roman gets to work.

A deep stillness settles over the room. Dean watches, beer forgotten, as Roman creates an intricate web around Seth’s body, diamond-shaped, symmetrical, framing his muscular torso. Seth breaths in sharply as Roman's hands brushes his cock.

"Steady." Roman kisses his hip bone. "We've a long way to go."

With every touch of the rope, Seth breathes a little easier. The angry tension bleeds from his shoulders. His mouth relaxes, fists loosening. Dean has never seen Seth go under like this, inch by inch, slow and sweet. He doesn't open his eyes once, and when Roman ties the blindfold around his eyes, he sighs and leans into the touch.

"Good boy. I've got you."

A small smile touches Seth's lips, and the sweetness of it lodges something jagged and cold in Dean's chest. He looks almost like the Seth Dean thought he knew, the guy with more heart than sense and way more guts than self-preservation.

Roman bends Seth’s arms and ties them together behind his back before leading him to the bed. He helps Seth climb up and lie down on his stomach across it, with his head hanging over one edge and his feet dangling off the other side. A third rope ties his ankles together, and Dean sees where this is going.

Roman loops a rope under the back of the harness and the rope securing Seth's ankles and pulls, sure and steady. Seth gasps as his chest is forced up from the mattress, his ankles pulled back and tied to the harness in a vicious looking hogtie.

"All right?" Roman asks. At Seth's nod he smiles, all proud and pleased. "Close your eyes, pretty boy. I'm taking off the blindfold for a bit. Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to look."

Seth doesn't acknowledge the words, but when the blindfold is removed his eyes are firmly closed. He moans when Roman gathers his hair in a ponytail and wraps the rope tightly around it. Roman twists the hair in a loop and finishes it off with a quick tie. The groan Seth makes when Roman pulls his hair back and attaches it to the harness is downright filthy. He puts the blindfold back on, bends down and kisses Seth’s forehead. "There. All done."

It's a stunning view, Seth on his belly, body stretched, chest and back straining, head pulled back to expose his throat. Drops of sweat beads his forehead as he struggles to maintain the position, and his lips are parted, mouth practically begging to be filled.

Dean slips down from the bed and crosses the floor. "Look at you. Such a pretty package." He sticks his thumb in Seth’s mouth and Seth closes his lips around it and sucks, careful to keep his teeth covered. Dean hooks his thumb under Seth's upper teeth and pulls his head from side to side. It's fucking hot the way Seth lets him.

"How long can we keep him like this?"

Roman wraps Dean in a full-body hug from behind, arms around his stomach and head resting on his shoulder. The beard tickles Dean's cheek. "He's pretty flexible. A while, I'd say. Probably no longer than twenty minutes on the first try."

"Think I can fuck his face like this?" Dean pulls out his thumb and wipes it off on Seth's hair. "Think he can swallow?"

Seth whimpers.

"Fucking his face is kind of the point,” Roman says, and, wow, the way Seth reacts to those words are a thing of beauty. "Swallowing might be a problem with his head pulled back like that."

There’s a flush spreading all the way up Seth’s chest. He's trying to grind his groin against the mattress, moving in tiny little jerks like he thinks maybe they won’t notice.

"Seth, baby." At Roman's words Seth goes still, like a kid caught with his hand down the proverbial cookie jar, turning just a fraction towards the sound of his voice. "New rules. You're allowed to speak, but only when spoken to. I'm going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer with words. Understand?"

It takes Seth three tries before he manages to get out a hoarse "yeah".

"Are your hands or feet going numb?"

"No." There's a dreamy quality to his voice. "I'm fine."

"If that happens you'll tell me. I don't care what we're doing. You tell me, or we're never doing this again. Got that?"

"Yeah."

"What's your safeword?"

Seth hesitates. "Don't need-"

"That's not what I asked. "

There's a long silence. Roman just waits, lets the silence sit there and fester until Seth is squirming in his ropes, and Dean has to admit he likes the sight of it.

"Red," Seth finally says.

Roman waits a beat. "Red, Seth? Really?" He sounds incredulous enough that Seth cringes. His breath is warm against Dean’s ear, his hand rubbing little circles on his stomach. "Our boy’s lying to us, Dean. He's got another safeword, a real one. Something he uses with others. Something he's embarrassed to let us hear."

Dean tsks in mock disappointment and grabs Seth by the chin, forcing his head even further back. It works like a choke hold and Seth makes a strangled sound.

"Sethie, Sethie, Sethie. That's not how this works. See, me and Ro, we're being good to you. We're taking care of you, even though you don’t deserve it. That means you owe us. You're scared of being embarrassed? That's just silly. Baby, we're gonna humiliate you so bad one little word ain't even gonna make the list."

He lets go and Seth relaxes as much as the ropes will let him, sucking in air in deep gulps.

"Tell you what," Dean says, all reasonable. "You give us your real safeword, and as a reward for being a good boy, I'm gonna spit in your face. How about that?"

Roman chuckles behind him but falls silent as Seth swallows, hesitates, and then gives a tiny fraction of a nod. It has to be the blindfold giving Seth something to hide behind, because there is no way he'd admit to wanting that while looking them in the eye.

"Yeah," Dean says hoarsely, "that's what I thought." At his back, Roman's breathing harder, and there's an unmistakable erection pressing against his ass. "Speak up then, princess. Safeword."

Seth struggles with it. Dean could push him, but it's hotter to watch him get there himself, face flushed, mouth opening and closing around the word he can't bring himself to speak. Just when Dean's sure it's not coming, Seth surprises him.

”Shield.”

Seth winces before the whole word's out of his mouth, like he can’t believe he said it out loud. His cheeks are burning.

Roman’s hand stills. Dean stares at Seth, frozen. There's a million questions he wants to ask, most of them starting with what the fuck. And maybe Seth's playing them, winding them up, but he’s holding his breath, shoulders high and tense. And so what if he is? Dean's done with trust. He's done with assumptions about honesty and motivations, who's got his back and who doesn’t. He's just in it for kicks, and right now that means reducing Seth to a quivering, cum-covered mess.

He rests a gentle hand against Seth's cheek. Seth flinches. "Good boy," Dean says, and spits him in the face.

Seth breathes out, a ragged sigh, and sags in relief.

"Mind your manners, Seth." Roman's strict dad-voice hits Dean right in the guts, and from the way Seth pulls himself up, he's feeling it too. "Dean just gave you something. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Dean." Seth's voice is soft and sweet, no edge, not a trace of sarcasm. The spittle is running down his face, leaving a wet, glistening trail behind. On an impulse, Dean reaches out and smears it all over his face.

"You're welcome. Want me to fuck that mouth of yours?"

Seth nuzzles Dean's palm, trying to capture his fingers. "Uh-huh."

"Yeah, that’s what I thought. I'd forgotten what a greedy slut you can be. You gonna thank me real nice afterward?"

"Uh-huh."

"Words, baby." Roman says. "Don't make me smack you."

Seth's breath hitches. He's squirming, trying to grind his cock against the mattress. "Yes, Dean, please."

"Huh. If I had known a little rope was all it took to get you this sweet, I'd have learned that shit ages ago."

Seth makes a disappointed sound when he pulls his hand back. Dean is so hard it hurts, and it's a relief to tear open the fly and pull his jeans and boxers down. He strokes himself a couple of times, then rubs the glistening head of his cock over Seth's lips, nose and cheeks.

"You want this, baby? You sure? I mean really, really sure? I wouldn't want to take advantage or anything."

It's glorious to see Seth fight against the rope, muscles tensing, in an attempt to reach his cock. "Please, please, please Dean, let me, please-"

There's a part of Dean that could watch Seth beg for hours. It’s one of his filthier go-to fantasies, making Seth beg for every touch and every word. When he pushes inside the hot, wet mouth Seth makes an eager noise and starts sucking his cock like a man with something to prove.

It’s heaven. Even without his hands and with his head locked in place Seth is good at this. He knows exactly how Dean likes it, and the mixture of experience, enthusiasm and skill has Dean weak-kneed in no time.

"Fuck," he gasps, and grabs the rope wrapped around Seth's hair. "Fuck, yeah." He pushes, and when Seth reacts the way he wants him to, relaxing his throat and opening up, he starts fucking his face for real.

Behind him, Roman is kissing and biting his neck, running his hands over his bare chest, erection grinding against his ass. Somehow Roman has managed to get himself undressed, and Dean wants to get fucked, badly, but he’s too breathless to ask for it and it takes everything he has just to hang on.

"So gorgeous, Dean," Roman murmurs in his ear. "So fucking beautiful. Can't believe how lucky I am."

Dean can’t stand compliments, but this is good, this works. He can pretend it's Seth, because Seth is all of those things, and Roman's deep voice is almost enough to push him over the edge.

"Fuck, Ro." He pulls out enough to let Seth draw a breath, then slams back until he feels Seth's nose right up against the base of his cock, buried in his pubic hair. "You like that, princess? You like choking on my dick?"

Seth moans in response and for a dizzying moment Dean can’t tell if he wants to destroy him or hold him and keep him safe forever. At the last moment he remembers what Roman said about swallowing. He pulls out and comes all over Seth's chin and bared throat. Seth looks absolutely filthy. He's gasping for air, lips red and swollen, face flushed, strings of saliva hanging from his mouth. Dean leans heavily against Roman, still breathing deeply. "Wow."

He feels more than he hears Roman's quiet laughter. ”Let’s not feed his ego too much, shall we?"

The next couple of minutes are kind of a blur. There's some kissing, some groping, but he feels loose-limbed and heavy, breathless and buzzing, and probably he's not the best kisser in the world right now. He's half-aware of Roman undressing him and yeah, that’s good, there's way too much clothing between the two of them. He can't entirely ignore Seth squirming on the bed with cum cooling on his face, making little begging noises, or the way Roman's hard dick presses against his hip.

"Want you to fuck me," he says, mouthing sloppy kisses along Roman's jaw and mouth. "Want to feel you inside of me. Want you to fill me up."

"Shit, Dean. You can’t just say things like that." Roman hoists him up like he weighs nothing, broad hands supporting his back, and Dean wraps his legs around Roman's waist without thinking. All this time, and he still keeps forgetting how strong Roman is, what that solid frame of muscle means when translated into actual feats of strength. Dean's not used to feeling dainty, but when Roman holds him up and kisses him deep enough to set fucking firework off under his skin he's not far off. 

"Let's leave the best for last," Roman murmurs, tugging on Dean’s earlobe with his teeth. "I want to make Seth weep with envy. Make him fucking desperate to come, then have you ride me while he watches. I want to show him what he decided to walk out on.”

And, fuck, who could say no to that? It's a little more vindictive than he would have expected from Roman, especially after all those sweethearts and darlings and babys, but Dean’s not complaining.

He gets a little break after that, as Roman turns his attention back to Seth. The fucked up thing about rope, at least the way Roman does it, is that it takes ages to set up, and only moments to take off. Seth sounds relieved when his hair and  ankles come loose and he can stretch out, resting against the bed. As Roman starts to untie his arms, though, the relief turns into reluctance.

"Don't-" he says and bites his lip.

"Oh, baby. Did somebody forget the rules?" Dean doesn't bother to hide the glee in his voice. The only thing that's better than Seth's perfect obedience is Seth fucking up and the look on his face when it hits him just how much trouble he's in. And... yeah. There it is.

Dean feels like he won the fucking lottery.

"Such a shame. Isn't that a shame, Ro?"

"Sure is." Roman pulls the rope from Seth's arms, then grabs the harness and hauls him to his knees. It's a rough, sudden move and Seth grimaces as the rope digs into his skin. He's swaying a bit on his knees, his neglected dick straining upwards his stomach, dark red and leaking precum. "We were gonna reward you for being such a good boy, but then you had to go and ruin it."

Seth opens his mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to apologize, but thinks better of it.

"What du you think?" Dean says, mostly for Seth's benefit. "Belt?"

"It'd mark him. But if we stick to his ass and thighs..." Roman runs his hand along said ass, and Seth moans and digs his nails into his legs. "Or we could whip his feet."

Seth freezes, breath caught in his throat. Without seeing his eyes it's hard to tell if it's more hope or apprehension.

"I don't know, man," Dean says. "Isn't that crazy painful?" He's already imagining the sounds Seth would make, the way he'd writhe and struggle to take it.

"Won’t damage him. But yeah. He'll feel it."

The needy whimper Seth makes tells him they’re definitely closer to want than fear, and he files it away for future reference. Seth's thighs are trembling and his hands keep drifting towards his dick despite his efforts to hold them at his sides. Roman’s grip on the harness seems to be all that's holding him steady.

Dean crouches down and leans in, close enough that Seth can feel his warm breath on his dick. Seth's hips jerk forward. With a low laugh, Dean licks a wet stripe along the underside of the shaft and Seth's gasp is followed by a groan that makes Dean's toes curl and his already spent cock twitch.

"Aww, is someone getting desperate?" Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Something you wanna say, princess?"

"Please I'm sorry please please please I can’t I need please-" It's a frantic stream of words, pleas and apologies tumbling over one another, and Dean’s mouth goes dry at the sound of it. He's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to stand not getting Seth off, because the sight of him coming and his grateful little sobs and the way he arches his back are the most beautiful things he knows.

Roman’s eyes are dark with desire. His cock looks painfully hard and Dean can’t even imagine that kind of restraint. At least he got off first. As Roman pulls Seth off the bed Seth scrambles to cooperate, unsure of what they want him to do.

"I'm going to let you choose your punishment, Seth. Pain or humiliation?"

"I-" Seth says. "I don't-"

Roman backhands Seth across the face, hard enough that only his grip on the harness keeps Seth from stumbling.

"Pain?" Roman demands, and it sounds more like a threat than a choice. "Or humiliation?"

The hesitation is long enough to border on defiant. Dean grabs Seth's hair and jerks his head back. "You really wanna make this worse for yourself?"

Seth's hands fly up to clutch at Dean's wrist. "Pain," he gasps, "please, I'm sorry, pain, pain!"

It probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is, the way Seth begs and apologizes in the same breath. But then Dean never pretended to be normal.

"Good boy," Roman says. "Hands at your sides."

Dean releases him and steps back to watch as Roman unties the harness, letting the rope fall to the floor. Wearing nothing but the blindfold Seth looks paradoxically more vulnerable than he did wrapped in rope.

"On your back on the bed," Roman says, and Seth shudders but obeys. He's a little  clumsy, bumping into the bed frame, and once he settles down he clutches the sheets as if to hold himself in place. "Remember your safeword?"

The blush returns as Seth nods and wets his lips.

"If you use it, we'll stop. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Seth says shakily. And, yeah, of course Seth knows, but at the same time, Dean can see where Roman's coming from. Because this thing they are, this mortal enemies shit, it blurs the line, makes real guilt and play guilt, real pain and play pain edge awfully close together, and those chair shots still seem to echo sometimes in the silence between them.

Dean places a hand on Seth’s thigh just to see him jump. "Scared?"

There's no answer, which means that yeah, he is, but he’s also too proud to admit it. Roman picks up a lighter. Because Dean's eyes are on Seth, he notices him flinch at the click and whoosh of the flame as Roman lights two candles and hands one to Dean.

"Ready, baby?" Roman says, in a voice that somehow manages to be reassuring and menacing at the same time. "This will hurt."

It takes Seth a moment to nod.

"Then ask for it."

Dean can’t help but regret the blindfold because the look in Seth’s eyes has got to be a thing of beauty right now. "Ask for what?" he snaps, voice cracking just a little.

Roman grins that rare grin of pure evil. "Your punishment, Seth."

Seth splutters. "Just - fuck. Fuck you. Just fucking do it, you-"

A hot drop of wax splashes against his lower chest and he cuts off with a sharp hiss, knuckles turning white as he grabs the sheets.

"You were saying?" Roman says mildly, and Dean could blow him right then and there. Seth's only response is a choked off whimper.

Dean tilts his candle carefully, dripping wax on Seth’s bicep. He gasps, and before he's had time to process it Roman lets a few drops fall on his stomach, just above the belly button. Seth trashes, his death grip on the sheets all that's keeping him in place, and Dean gets the feeling he's missing the ropes holding him down.

By unspoken agreement they both wait for a while, giving Seth a chance to adjust. He takes a few panicky breaths and then settles, fingers loosening, body relaxing. They wait until his breathing is calm again and he's turning his head, trying to hear where they’re standing, guess at where the next drop is going to fall.

Roman catches Dean's eyes. 'One,' he mouths, and Dean nods. On the silent count of three they tilt their candles simultaneously, and the wax splashes on Seth’s left thigh and the right side of his chest. This time his gasp at the first shock turns into a guttural groan as the pain morphs into pleasure.

They settle into a kinder rhythm after that, Roman first, then Dean, giving Seth time to breathe and adjust. It's like sex dipped in cocaine, watching Seth dance under the wax, the long line of his throat when he throws his head back, the arch of his back, his feet digging into the sheets, and his cock, leaking and begging for attention. He looks absolutely edible, spread out for them, and the way he breathes through the pain, relaxes in anticipation rather than tensing up, makes Dean think it probably isn't his first time playing with candles. Which of his lovers introduced this particular game? Does he do it to himself when he's alone?

”This is too easy." Dean puts down the candle and runs his thumb over the head of Seth's leaking cock. "You want a challenge, Sethie? Want some stakes to make it interesting?"

Seth whines and arches against the touch, desperate for more. Dean can't resist the temptation to stroke him a couple of times, just to hear the needy, strangled sounds he makes. He's thinking he could probably get Seth off pretty quick, but satisfying as that would be, it'd ruin Roman's plans for the evening. When he steps back, Seth almost cries. He grits his teeth and slams his head back against the pillow in frustration.

"Hands and knees on the floor, princess.” Seth makes an effort, but they end up having to guide him down from the bed and on to the carpet. Roman watches curiously as Dean picks up the half-empty can of beer and places it on Seth’s back, right between his shoulder blades.

"You drop this, you don't get to come."

Seth's head whips up so fast his body jerks and the can wobbles dangerously. He turns towards Roman, wordlessly pleading for help. It's like he doesn't even listen. Didn't they already tell him whose side Roman would be on?

"Sounds fair to me," Roman says, and grins at Seth's frustrated noise.

When the melting wax hits Seth’s back, right where the tattoo ends, Seth groans and curls his fingers into the carpet, refusing to move an inch. Dean walks around him, slowly, letting Seth hear every move. He crouches down and lets several drops hit the sole of Seth’s bare foot. Seth flinches, a bitten-off curse on his lips, and the can moves a little, beer sloshing around inside.

Dean opens his mouth to speak and is interrupted by the shrill opening bars of The Game breaking the silence. It’s all he can do to keep from turning towards the door, half expecting Triple fucking H to be stand there. Seth freezes for an instant, then sits up and tears off the blindfold. Dean just barely manages to catch the can, lukewarm beer spilling all over his hands, as Seth digs frantically through his discarded clothes, looking for the ringing phone.

"You could just let it go to voice mail," Dean grumbles as he slams the can down on the floor and looks around for something to wipe his hands on. He ends up using the carpet, because fuck it, he won’t ever see this particular room again.

Seth stares at him like he's lost his mind. "It's _Hunter_!"

Somehow Dean had managed to repress what a huge dork Seth is, with his stupid customized ring tones on his stupid flashy phone, and his stupid, idiotic desire to obey authority and to please. "So? Tell him you were taking a shower."

"I can’t, I've gotta-" Seth fumbles with the phone, mercifully cutting the song short, and staggers to his feet as he answers.

"Hello? Yeah. At the-? No, sure. Yeah, no, I- I was just- No. No. Of course." There's an outraged pause. "Owens?" He practically spits out the name, then cringes. "Yeah. Of course, if that's what you- I'm all about teamwork, you know that. Yeah. No, no, I hadn't forgotten. Ten minutes. Five. Sorry. Yeah."

He draws in a breath to say something more as Hunter hangs up on him. Dean can tell the moment he remembers what he looks like, covered in spit, sweat, cum and dried, cracked wax, hair tangled and matted.

Roman clearly sees it too. "Wanna use the shower?" Without waiting for an answer, he tosses a towel at Seth. It hits him right in the face.

"Then what?" Dean says, because he's an ass. "You gonna crawl back into your sweaty ring gear? Go meet daddy at some fancy restaurant shirtless in skin tight latex pants? I mean, I know you’re a bit of an exhibitionist but that’s just fucked up, man."

Sometimes Dean wishes he were a little kinder, or at least had a better brain to mouth-filter. Like now, when Seth looks like he's about to start crying at any moment, and not in the good way.

Roman gives him an exasperated look. "Seth, just hit the shower. Dean will loan you a pair of jeans or something."

"I'm not gonna-" Dean says, at the same time as Seth says, in a high, shrill voice, "I'm not wearing _his_ -" and the look Roman gives them is enough to cut them both short.

"Fine." Roman holds out his hand. "Gimme your keycard."

"I'm not - _Jesus_ , Roman, they can’t see you in my room, are you out of your mind?" Seth's voice is even more grating than usual, laced with panic.

"Gimme your goddamned keycard, get in the fucking shower, and let me get on with saving your stubborn ass. Or go out there like this and deal on your own. Your choice."

Seth looks dazed. Then he snaps out of it, shoves the keycard at Roman, and runs off into the bathroom like someone had lit a fire under his ass. Roman mutters under his breath, something about fucking high-maintenance divas, and grabs Seth's phone as the water starts running in the shower. He flips through the contacts, presses a button and holds it to his ear.

"It's Reigns," he says, as soon as they pick up. "Room 213, Seth’s having an emergency. Don’t tell Hunter."

Dean watches as Roman hangs up and tosses the phone on the pile of Seth’s ring gear. "Who was that?"

"J&J.” He looks at Dean as if daring him to object. "They know we're fucking, and if they haven't ratted Seth out yet, they probably won’t. They can get his suit here before he's out of the shower.” Roman's pulling on his jeans and fastening his belt as there's a knock on the door. 

Dean whistles. "Efficient little fuckers, aren't they?"

Roman gives him a crocked grin. "Would Seth be able to stand them if they weren't?"

Efficient they may be, but that doesn’t make them any more likable. Dean leaves Roman to deal with Chip ’n Dale while he heads into the bathroom to take his frustrations out on Seth. 

He knows something’s wrong before he sees it. The water’s running and the small bathroom is humid, but there’s no other noise, no movements, no splashes. Through the frosted glass of the shower cabin he sees Seth, curled up on the floor, shoulders shaking. Dean turns the knob, easing the water pressure to a drizzle, and crouches down.

”Seth? You all right?"

It’s a stupid fucking question. Seth’s breath coming ragged, through clenched teeth, too fast and too shallow, and his whole body is trembling. It’s not the first time he’s crashed after a scene, but it’s the first since they went from brothers to enemies to whatever the hell they’re supposed to be now. Or maybe it has been happening all over the place, only Seth hasn’t hung around long enough for them to see.

”All right, princess. Up you go. Come on. Let me look at you."

”I can’t-” Seth is unresisting as Dean pulls him to his feet, face contorted in the effort to get himself under control. "I can’t get clean, Hunter’s gonna kill me, I can’t be late, I can’t-” His fingers are digging at the scraps of dried wax, leaving ugly red scratch marks in their wake.

”Hey.” Dean captures his hand. ”Relax. I’ve got this.” 

”No, no, no, you don’t, Hunter’s gonna-"

"Are you scared of him?"

And wow, if that wasn't exactly the wrong thing to say in exactly the wrong tone of voice, by the suddenly shuttered expression on Seth’s face to go by. He shakes his head, backs away, and Dean doesn't think that head shake is all lie but it sure as fuck isn't all truth either.

”No, come on. Seth. Look at me." The shower's tiny and there's really nowhere to go. It’s a matter of seconds before he has Seth cornered, and it makes him feel like a bully, but he still grabs Seth by the chin, forcing him to look up. His long hair is plastered to his head and under the spray of the shower you can't tell tears from water but his eyes are red shot and swollen. "You're a fucking piece of shit, but you’re ours. They don't get to hurt you. Hunter don't get to hurt you. You hear that? I don't know what fucked up, shady, soul-sucking deal you've got with that creep, but if he ever as much as breathes on you the wrong way, you say the word and we'll destroy him. We'll tear down the Authority. I mean, we're probably gonna be doing that anyway sooner or later, might as well be for you. All right? You hear me?"

Seth’s laugh is all splinters and choked sobs as he wipes a hand across his face, trying to turn away.

”Hey. Shut up. Listen. You’re Seth Rollins, all right? You don’t need the Authority. You use the Authority. They’re gonna fucking wait for you, because everyone always waits for you. We’re gonna get you cleaned up and in your stupid fucking suit, and you’re gonna waltz in there like you own the place, like the smarmy arrogant motherfucking scumbag you are, and you’re gonna fucking kill it, whatever the hell it is, because that’s what you do. That’s what you are. All right? Okay? You hearing me?"

”I’m not-"

”It’s not a fucking debate, Rollins. I'm in charge here, and I'm telling you it's gonna be fine. You hear me?"

After what seems like forever Seth closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. ”Yeah. I hear you."

”Good. Now get on your knees and let me wash the cum out of your hair.” It’s a sign of how out of it Seth is that he complies without bitching about Dean having got it there to begin with. Dean threads his fingers through the tangle of blonde and brown, then reaches for Roman's fancy shampoo. "You’re goddamned lucky Ro’s such a Disney princess." He rubs little circles against Seth’s scalp, working up a lather. "If it weren't for him, we'd be using a bar of soap."

He talks on as he rinses the hair, applies conditioner and rinses again, then scrubs Seth down, gently scraping off the remnants of wax. It's familiar, easy. Seth needs touch to ground him after a scene, needs the sound of their voices to cut through whatever bullshit insecurities he's got raging in his mind, and giving it to him is muscle memory, as much second nature as running the ropes. Dean's head is full of useless knowledge like that, an outdated, unabridged Encyclopedia of Seth Rollins that he couldn't unlearn if his life depended on it.

Dean feels the exact moment Seth's back. He stiffens under Dean's touch, raises his chin, and there's a shift in the air, a familiar tension. Seth's getting ready to speak, and the next few words out of his mouth are going to be vicious. And just like that, Dean needs him gone.

"Get out." He gives a little shove. "It's my turn to shower."

When he returns to the room, towel wrapped around his waist, J&J are almost done dressing Seth, fussing over his tie and shoes. Seth's all sharp angles, ice and flint, and his lips curls in distaste as he sees Dean.

"You took your sweet time."

Dean shrugs. "Unlike you, I didn't sell my soul to come running every time Hunter snaps his fingers. You want pizza?" he says to Roman as he reaches for his phone. "I'm starving."

As if on cue, Seth's stomach rumbles loudly. He scowls and bats away Joey's hands from his cufflinks. "All right, all right, enough, I've got it. Let's get out of here."

Roman steps between him and the door. "One more thing, Seth."

"What?" Seth snaps, like Roman's been on his case all evening instead of giving him everything he wants. The sharp, ugly tone grates on Dean and his fingers itch with the urge to punch Seth right in his arrogant face.

Roman leans in and kisses him, slow and sweet, like he refuses to be dragged into Seth's angry pissing contest. When he pulls back, Seth's flushed and wide-eyed.

"See you in the ring, Rollins."

Seth looks like he's been slapped, just for a second. He recovers fast, lips twisting in disgust. " _God_ , I hope not. You can’t wrestle for shit."

He gathers up his entourage with a flick of his wrist and stalks out, door slamming in their wake, leaving a resounding silence behind.

Dean can't stand the hurt on Roman's face, so like a coward he turns away to pull on his jeans. Seth would know exactly what to say to make it better, even though he's the one who wrecked them in the first place. It’s a cruel talent of his, being able to deal out comfort and misery with equal ease, all careless about consequence. Dean cares so much the words turn to lead in his mouth and the prospect of fucking up paralyses him. He and Roman, they’re not effortless like Seth and Roman used to be. They're still navigating around the space Seth left, and some nights it's more literal than others. Like now, with remnants of the abandoned game scattered all over the room and the air still heavy with the scent of sex, hemp rope and candles.

Roman sighs wearily as he starts to gather up the ropes. It fucking breaks Dean's heart, how much more Roman deserves than this.

"You know he's lying," Dean finally says.

"He usually is." Roman shrugs and gives him a tired little half-smile. "I'm all right, Dean."

It's tempting to say "we don't need him", but that’s beside the point. It’s not about need, never was. It’s about home and heart and family and a want so raw that it eclipses everything else. It’s about what they had and lost, what Seth stole from them to get ahead. It’s a cold comfort that Seth stole it from himself too, and that he keeps coming back to the smoking ruins like a ghost that can’t leave its haunt behind.

"He'd have stayed for you. It's my-"

"No." Roman drops the rope and covers the distance between them, places one hand on Dean’s neck and pulling him close. "Seth made his choice. You and I, we've made ours. Do I miss him? Sure. So what? I bet I don't miss him a fraction as much as he misses us. Because he-" he presses a kiss to Dean's forehead, "-can’t have this." He turns Dean's hand and kisses the palm, gently, almost reverently, and the tenderness of it makes Dean ache.

"You promised to fuck me," Dean says, and if his voice is hoarse with something other than desire he's pretty sure Roman won’t tell.

"I did, didn’t I?" Roman pulls him close until their bodies are pressed together. He bites Dean's earlobe gently and tugs, pulling a groan out of him. "Promised something else too. Wanna show Seth exactly what he walked out of? Let me get my phone. Bet we can make his evening awkward as fuck."

Dean feels a little shiver run done his spine, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. "I love it when you’re evil."

It's not what he means, exactly, but Roman smiles in a way that makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he gets it anyway.


End file.
